The Unexpected Gift
by Ms.GrahamCracker
Summary: Sometimes, it's the moments we don't spend together that's the most memorable.


**Disclaimer: If I owned them, my retirement account would have a lot more zeros in it. Alas, Numb3rs and all it's yummy characters belong to their creators and CBS.**

**No warnings and no spoilers**

**A/N: I make a reference to my second story, "An Eppes Family Portrait", in this fic. You don't need to read it first, but feel free to do so. The reference is a special gift to 1st endeavor, for her repeated request for a sequel to the story. No sequel, sweetie – consider this a closure of sorts.**

**Summary; Sometimes, it's the moments we don't spend together that's the most memorable.**

**The Unexpected Gift**

**~ byMsGrahamCracker ~**

"_He is a wise man who does not grieve for things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has." Epictetus_

Charlie stood in the rapidly waning sunlight, shifting his weight onto his good foot, and wished he had thought of taking his jacket with him when he'd left for CalSci that morning. He hadn't really intended to be gone that long – after all, classes were out for the holiday season and the campus was essentially closed down, but he had discovered being the head of the mathematics department involved a prodigious amount of never-ending paperwork. He had had every intention of sitting at his desk and working on the stack of papers until they were done – until the lure of a strategically placed blackboard became too great and before he knew it the day was almost over and his in-box was still nearly full**.**

He found himself now, standing at the front door of his home, shivering slightly in the cold and contemplating his current conundrum – that being the simple task of retrieving his house keys from his pants pocket while simultaneously maintaining his grip on the crutch under his right arm, keeping his laptop satchel hanging from his shoulder and the plastic grocery bag secure in his hand.

He used the crutch to steady himself, while he shifted the laptop onto his back and out of the way and switched the sack to his other hand, clutching it with fingers that were also wrapped around the hand hold of the crutch.

He slipped his free hand into the pocket of the dusty brown pants he was wearing. The keys, lost among the numerous pieces of chalk and chalk holders in his pocket, evaded his searching hand and he grumbled, tiredly. Hopping once to regain his balance and not put any unnecessary weight on his broken, cast enclosed foot, he put a little more effort into finding the keys. He located them with a small sound of triumph and pulled them out, slipping them quickly into the front door lock - then cursed softly when the door stuck.

Cold air is suppose to contract the molecules and make things smaller, but every winter the front door to his lovely craftsman home defied scientific logic and the laws of thermal expansion and inexplicably swelled, causing no end of frustration and sore shoulders. Centering his weight again on his uninjured foot, he thumped his upper body into the unforgiving wood, grunting slightly, and it reluctantly gave way with a offended squeak. He limped through the threshold, turning awkwardly on one foot to close and lock the door behind him.

He hadn't heard the phone ring, but the instant he was in the house he heard the answering machine kick in and his father's anxious voice. "Charlie? Are you there? Pick up, kiddo. I'm worried about you."

Alan was in Boca Raton, Florida, visiting his younger brother Joel, who hadn't been feeling well lately. Joel's daughter, Donna and her family had driven to St. Louis to visit her husband's family for the holidays and Alan had been happy to spend the time with Joel while they were gone. He had been there for nearly a week now and he had been calling home several times a day to check on his youngest son.

Quickly, Charlie tried to slip the satchel off his shoulder and set the grocery sack down, but, in doing so, he lost his grip on the crutch and it fell to the hard wood floor with a crash.

Cursing quietly under his breath and hopping again on one foot, he leaned over, grabbed the crutch and hurried to the phone – just as Alan mumbled to someone, "He must not be home, yet." and hung up.

Charlie glanced at his watch._ It'll take_ _Dad approximately 1 minute 27 seconds to call Don and tell him he can't get reach me and ask if he's heard from me today, then browbeat Don into calling me. Give Don 38 seconds to try my uncharged and useless cell phone and leave a message, then call the house. _Plenty of time to at least put the ice cream away.

He retrieved the troublesome grocery sack and shoulder bumped his way through the swinging doors into the kitchen. He placed the frozen dessert in the freezer next to the containers of meatloaf and lasagna Alan had left for him, then turned, using the crutch and limped back through the dining room to wait for Don's call.

Don was in Baltimore, Maryland with Robin, at her parents house for an early Christmas celebration. Robin was staying another week to house-sit, but Don and Alan were both due back tomorrow – Christmas Eve. Alan was taking the red-eye and would arrive early in the morning, but Don's original early flight had been rescheduled by the airlines just yesterday and he wouldn't be home until late afternoon.

When the phone rang again Charlie glanced at his watch before answering it. "You're late." he quipped into the receiver. "Two minutes 39 seconds. You're getting slow in your old age."

"Hey, at least I'll live to enjoy my old age." There was amusement and a touch of relief in Don's voice as he teased. "You, on the other hand, little brother, may not, if you don't call Dad back and tell him you're okay." There was just a second of silence before Don's voice came back, concerned and earnest. "You are okay, aren't you?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. I called your cell phone first, why didn't you answer it? How's your foot?"

"I'm fine, Don. I just misplaced my charger again. Really, it's just been a long day. How's your trip?"

Charlie could hear the lightness in his brother's voice when he answered and, once again, he was glad they had talked his overworked, overstressed brother into a mini-vacation. "Well," Don said, "the family thing last night went alright, I guess. I don't think I embarrassed myself too badly. We took Robin's parents to the airport this morning and I have a special dinner planned with her tonight. You know the kind; just the two of us, candles, soft music, a nice red wine, plush rug in front of the roaring fire, ..."

"That's...that's enough." Charlie laughed. "Anymore and you may have to arrest yourself for making interstate obscene phone calls."

Don laughed, too, then became serious. "Don't think I didn't catch you changing the subject. Did you see the doctor today? What did he say about your foot?"

Charlie sighed dramatically "He said the x-rays looked good and we're right on schedule for the cast to come off in two weeks."

Don's sigh was vacillating and uncertain. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for Dad and I to leave you there..." His voice trailed off, the unspoken _alone_ loud and clear.

"Dooonn." Charlie dragged the one syllable out in weary frustration. "We've been through all of this. Many times. Uncle Joel is sick and needs Dad's help. Robin's family is going on that Christmas cruise and wanted to have Christmas with you and Robin early and there's no way in hell I was going to let a broken foot interfere with you two actually taking a vacation. I'm in a walking cast. I can get around just fine. It's only been four days since you left and you will both be home tomorrow."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right. Hey, speaking about coming home – remember, my flight was changed to the afternoon, but, now, I guess there's a chance of a winter storm moving in. They say it might cause some flight delays, so if anything changes I'll let you know."

"Sounds good, bro. Now, I'm hungry and I'm tired and I'm going to call Dad and go to bed. Tell Robin I said hi and I'll see you tomorrow."

Charlie called Alan and assured him that, yes, he was eating and taking it easy and, yes, I'll be at the airport to pick you up tomorrow and, yes, I miss you, too.

He put the rest of the groceries away, then heated the lasagna and ate it while watching the news, his casted foot elevated on the ottoman in front of him. At least, it had been his left foot that was broken, and he was still able to drive himself. The walking cast had added another much welcomed level of mobility, and now he only needed the dreaded crutches if he had been on his foot for a while – like today.

Initially, he was going to join Amita and Larry at a week long math convention in Seattle in mid December, then they would split up, he and Amita flying to New Delhi for some time with her family, cumulating with a return on Christmas Eve to spend it here with Dad and Don. A stupid, careless, misstep while hiking over two months ago had changed everything.

Surgery, weeks of immobility, two different casts, crutches – not to mention the pain, had convinced him to change his plans. That is, he thought wryly, his doctor and family conspired to encourage him to stay home and let his foot heal completely.

Uncle Joel had gotten sick, then, and Alan had gone to Florida to help out. Robin's father had been given a two week cruise as a surprise bonus and abruptly moved the family holiday gathering to a week before Christmas, and Don and Robin had flown to Baltimore last week. A few days ago, Amita called to tell him she had decided to stay an extra week with her family. He would miss her, but Dad and Don would both be home tomorrow in time for Christmas.

Finished eating, he took his dirty dishes to the kitchen, checked the lock on the back door, and went to bed.

The phone was ringing again at 6:04am. It was Alan. In a rushed, nervous voice he apologized for calling so early (_But, it's after 8 here, you know) _and told Charlie his brother Joel had suffered a gall bladder attack through the night and was scheduled that morning for emergency surgery. Unfortunately, his daughter and her husband were having car problems in Louisiana and they were having trouble finding a mechanic willing to work on Christmas Eve. "Sorry, kiddo, but I won't be able to come home for a while. Give your brother my best when you pick him up this morning. You and Donnie enjoy yourselves. I'll fly back as soon as I can."

Despondent, Charlie had gone back to sleep, only to wake up nearly two hours later with a nagging headache. He hobbled to the bathroom and took some pain relievers, then dressed and went downstairs. Still disappointed that Alan would not make it home, he focused instead on Don's return. A trip to the grocery store was in order – they would need more beer, and a few staples and maybe, since Alan wouldn't be home to orchestrate a multi-course holiday meal and Don would be home too late for them to whip something up on their own, he would stop at Burnsides and get two freshly cooked and packaged Christmas dinners, complete with dessert and even a few decorated holiday cookies.

The roads were packed with last minute shoppers. There was a long line at Burnsides and an even longer one at the grocery store, but a few hours later he thumped the front door open with his shoulder again and took the groceries to the kitchen.

He came back through the dining room to hang his jacket on the pegs next to the door and the answering machine caught his attention. The message light was blinking and he stopped in front of it. He reached forward and pushed the red button that said PLAY and Don's voice, full of excitement, burst from the speakers. "Hey, Buddy, guess what? I'm snowed in! Always wanted to say that. Seriously, it's got to be on the news. 18 inches and it's still snowing! Problem is, late this afternoon they say it's going to turn to ice. Everything from La Guardia to Richmond is already closed. Looks like you and Dad will have to do Christmas without me. I'll talk to you later. Robin and I are going to build a snowman."

Charlie limped slowly to the dining room table and sat down. The immediate melancholy that settled hard in his stomach had his mind swirling with a myriad of emotions. When the stark realization hit him - _I'm_ _going to be alone for Christmas_ - he felt his throat tighten. _Dad's in Florida – Don's in Maryland – Amita's in New Dehli with her parents – Larry accepted Megan Reeves' invitation to celebrate the holidays with her in London – even every member of Don's team was spending Christmas with their families._

"Alone," he repeated, out loud, and swallowed back a brief bit of panic. After another hard swallow he had a little more control over himself. "Alright, so they won't be home for Christmas." he said with as much conviction as he could. "I can handle that. I'm not some spoiled kid – I'm an adult and men don't cry because they're alone on Christmas."

Heartened somewhat by his own assurance, he stood up. "Well," he said, "those groceries won't put themselves away." He limped into the kitchen and put the food, the beer and the two holiday dinners in the frig. When he was done he hobbled back through the swinging doors into the dining room.

He stopped just inside the doors and gazed woefully at the decorations scattered around the open living area.

December in L.A. isn't your typical Currier and Ives, snow-covered, Christmas-card kind of Christmas, but during the holidays the house had always been rich in love and laughter, decorated with treasured signs of the season and filled with the savory smells of holiday food and the earthy aroma of fresh cut pine.

Margaret Eppes had loved everything about Christmas. She and Alan, both raised in Jewish homes had been an active part of the rebellious 60's when everything that was part of the establishment was not only frown upon, but rejected altogether. They had both shrugged off their families' traditions and started some of their own, beginning with a Christmas tree.

Margaret had always wanted a Christmas tree, so, each year of the thirty five plus years they had been married, Alan had found the perfect fresh-cut tree for her and set it up beside the fireplace. Decorating the tree quickly became one of her favorite parts of the holiday season.

Standing before this year's tree, Charlie's eyes drifted from one ornament to another, the memories overwhelming his senses and adding to his despair; the little Christmas angel with the broken wing that Alan had glued together because Margaret just couldn't bring herself to throw it away; the two sleds made from Popsicle sticks that he and Don had made, with their names and the year 1978 painted on them; the marvelously eclectic mix of homemade and store bought ornaments that, while they filled the branches with color and light, only added to his feelings of gloom and misery.

Charlie was crestfallen that the sight that usually filled him with happiness now left him feeling empty and completely dispirited.

He turned his eyes away from the blinking tree lights and they drifted to the mantel above the fireplace. The rich wood was covered with full deep pine boughs, decorated with sprigs of holly and pine cones. Candles of varying sizes were placed in and around the greenery. The deep fullness of the boughs tapered off towards the center of the mantel, where, for the last 30 years, two cherished items had been lovingly placed; a driedel, a Jewish top that had been Alan's when he was a child, and a small Menorah, a gift to Margaret from her grandmother. "_There's nothing wrong with a little tradition"_ Margaret had said, and Alan agreed.

Despite his earlier conviction, Charlie found himself embarrassingly close to tears. He turned his misty eyes up, away from the small keepsakes, to the portrait that hung above the fireplace; a portrait of the three Eppes men.

Originally a Christmas gift to Alan from Don and Charlie three years ago, it was actually taken there, in Charlie's backyard, two years ago by a prominent L.A. photographer.

An unbelievable series of unpredictable and embarrassing events had required Alan to reschedule the photography session eight times before the three of them were able to keep their appointment, only to have to reschedule when, once again, unexpected events turned it into a day they would never forget. None of the terrifying drama of the first endeavor was evident in this portrait, however, and Charlie found himself smiling through glistening eyes as he looked at it.

The three men in the portrait were relaxed – their smiles easy and natural. A large studio light had been set in the grass several feet in front of them, bathing them in artificial light and adding definition to their faces, but it was the late afternoon sun, just beginning it's descent over the flower garden on the west edge of the yard, that added a warm golden tone to the scene.

Alan was sitting on the stone bench next to the koi pond in the backyard. He was dressed casually in jeans and a soft green button down shirt. His smile was warm and genuine, his posture relaxed and comfortable. Don was standing slightly behind him, one leg lifted, his foot resting on the bench behind his father. One arm was draped across his raised knee, making him lean forward slightly towards Alan. Don wore a midnight blue shirt that was opened at the collar and covered by a gray sports coat which bunched at the side where his hand disappeared into the pocket of his jeans. His smile, always captivating and charming, covered his entire face.

Charlie gazed at himself in the portrait. He was squatting in front of the bench, close to the pond, one arm on the bench next to his father and one hand hanging down off his knee, his fingertips skimming the surface of the water, where a few snatches of orange and white could be seen in the shimmering light. He was looking up slightly, through his dark lashes, at the camera and he was smiling, happy and peaceful. The portrait was Alan's pride and joy and Charlie knew his mother would have treasured it as well.

At the sobering thought of his mother Charlie turned away, letting his brooding thoughts envelope him. This is ridiculous, he thought. I'm a grown man. People spend Christmas alone all the time. It's no big deal.

Unable to completely shake the melancholy, Charlie sat down in the chair next to the fireplace and stared gloomily at the blinking tree lights. It's just that . . . well, he had never been alone at Christmas. Even when he lived in England, he and Susan had flown home for the holidays. The year he spent in Boston at MIT, his parents had joined him there and they had had a wonderful time shopping on Newbury Street and at Quincy Market. They went ice skating at Boston Commons and enjoyed a Christmas Eve performance of the MIT Philharmonic Orchestra.

As the thoughts of his mother crossed his mind once again, he thought of their first year at Princeton and away from the comfort of home and family. New Jersey in December had been gray and cold, with several inches of snow a constant, painful reminder that Christmas was close.

Margaret had gotten a job with a small law firm close to the college, but maintaining two households on opposite sides of the country had strained the family budget, and as the holiday approached, it was obvious they could not afford to fly home to be with Alan and Don.

Sitting there, by the fireside, Charlie grimaced as he remembered being less than understanding when she had told him. She must have been disappointed, as well, but, probably in an effort to help keep his spirits up, she had been practical and stoic, declaring they could have a great Christmas there, just the two of them.

They had done better than that.

They couldn't be the only ones who were unable to be with family, she'd decided, and had, with her usual aplomb, located other students and faculty members stuck at Princeton for the holidays. She organized a party, complete with a Christmas tree, decorations, food and desserts, and even a red-faced Professor Holland dressed in a Santa suit. She was always so good at the kind of thing.

Then it hit him. Maybe ... could I ... would it work? Seriously, he thought, could he do the same thing here? Could he arrange a party like his mother did? Organization was not his strong suit, but in the past he had found enthusiasm and determination could be an acceptable substitute – plus he could always ask for help. He knew of several students who were not going home for the holidays. He had just talked to Audrey Bennett yesterday, a senior, who told him she was spending Christmas Eve with a few other students, probably eating pizza and watching Christmas movies. Certainly there would be more. If they helped... Why not? It was better than staying home alone and it could be fun. And, he thought excitedly, why stop with the campus of CalSci? He could add an entirely new variable to the plan. Yesterday, at the hospital waiting for the results of his X-rays, he had noticed the flurry of activity certainly hadn't diminished because of the holidays. People were still sick, injured, recovering; and the doctors and nurses and staff of the hospital were still working long hours to do what they could to help them. Why couldn't he do something for the patients and staff of the hospital, as well as the students and faculty of CalSci?

Why the hell not, he thought.

By six o'clock that evening Charlie could almost feel his mother smiling down on him. One quick call to Audrey that morning had generated a texting frenzy around the campus and within an hour the Craftsman was overflowing with students and faculty, alike, all eager to help with the preparations. Charlie turned the kitchen and his mother's recipes over to Audrey and several friends, and in no time, the old house was filled with the scents of cookies and fudge and Margaret's special apple latkes.

Professor Brady and a group of students hit downtown Pasadena and surrounding areas, soliciting donations from local businesses. They returned with enormous amounts of food, video games, books, toys and gifts for all ages.

The dining room table was cleared off and Misty Edwards, a freshman, took charge of wrapping the various items – barking instructions and wielding scissors, cellophane tape and ribbon as well as any drill sergeant.

Charlie, himself, coordinated details with the hospital and by six o'clock, on Christmas Eve, he and his merry group of helpers descended on the hospital, gifts and goodies in hand. The ambulatory patients had been settled in the cafeteria and Ray Galuski, dressed as Santa, handed out gifts to everyone. The celebration continued throughout the hallways and into the patients rooms who were unable to get out of bed.

Charlie was overwhelmed by the spirit of the celebration. It was as if all the pain and discomfort and loneliness were forgotten. The students, who just hours ago had been anticipating a cheerless Christmas, embraced the festivities with an ardor he rarely saw in them. The hospital staff - nurses, interns, doctors, lab and X-ray technicians, even the cleaning staff – all joined in the festivities. One of the interns played the piano and everyone sang Christmas songs until they were hoarse. He watched Professor Degart read a fairytale book to three little girls, somehow managing to fit them all on his ample lap. Nurse Molly made reindeer balloons for the children. Everyone played games, ate cookies, held wheelchair races in the hallway and teased each other under the sprig of mistletoe that had magically appeared.

They left the hospital by 9 o'clock, to allow the nursing staff to settle everyone before bedtime, and continued the party at CalSci's Knox Hall. They talked and laughed and shared personal Christmas stories, bonding in a way that's only possible on Christmas Eve.

It was well after midnight when Charlie finally shoulder-thumped his front door and limped into the house. The euphoria and exhilaration he felt dimmed slightly as he entered the empty house, but he found himself seeing things differently - well, figuratively speaking. He couldn't help the grimace as he stood in the entry and observed his normally clean house.

Furniture had been moved aside to accommodate the number of helpers and their particular tasks. Wrapping paper fragments and unused ribbon littered the floor around the dining room table and he had never seen the kitchen in such shape. Still, he smiled wearily, it had been worth it. A messy house paled dramatically when compared to the smiling, joy-filled faces of the patients and students. He'd heard somewhere that the best way to cheer yourself up is to do something good for someone else. Well, it certainly worked tonight. He felt ... well ... elated. He was grateful, though, that Alan wouldn't be home for a few days. He'll have everything cleaned up by then.

The aroma of fresh baked cookies still lingered in the open rooms and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relishing the influx of childhood memories and feeling of contentment it summoned. He opened his eyes again at the sudden whiff of pine and found himself drawn to the tree by the fireplace. _Mom would have loved this one,_ he thought – this large Douglas fir with forty some years of memories hanging from it's branches.

The small Christmas angel with the broken wing caught his eye again and he smiled, remembering. It was the year he had been five and an evening of decorating the tree had turned into merry chaos when Don had mischievously thrown some popcorn at his little brother, who of course returned the gesture. Instead of stopping the impromptu food fight, his parents had joined in, all four of them throwing popcorn at each other. Margaret had stepped backwards to avoid the handful she saw in her husband's hand and had fallen into the tree. The tree fell against the wall and some of the ornaments, including the tiny angel, fell to the floor. Alan had glued the broken wing back into place and every year after that, as long as she lived, Margaret had given the angel a place of honor in front of the tree.

Charlie's gaze found the two homemade sleds, traditionally placed beside each other every year. In his second grade art class, Don had made the first small sled using Popsicle sticks, glue and red paint. Margaret, of course, had hung it on the tree, declaring it was her favorite ornament of all. He had felt left out, until Don offered to help him make one just like it. They first had to plea for Popsicles – which Margaret bought and handed to Don with a proud, knowing look. He can still remember sitting with Don in the garage, his pudgy three year old fingers being guided by his older brother, as they placed the sticks just so, then glued them together and finally, Don had helped him write his name and date on the ornament with a small paint brush. Even now, Charlie could remember Margaret's quiet tears as she hugged her sons and hung his sled next to Don's.

He looked around the room at the festive decorations, the years of memories, and found that, although they were still sadly absent, he didn't miss his dad and Don as he had before. The heady feeling of fulfillment and satisfaction he was experiencing had filled him with a peace that outweighed the despair he had felt before.

He removed his jacket and limped around a misplaced ottoman to hang it up when, once again, he saw the red light blinking on the answering machine. The digital readout told him there were nine messages. He reached forward and pushed the play button.

He was shocked that the first thing he heard was a woman's giggle, then a hushed, _"Shsss, my dear, I __think it's on." _He smiled, then, when he heard Larry Fleinhardt's voice through the speakers. _"Festive __greetings and felicitations dear friends! We are enjoying our holiday rendezvous in 'merry ol' England' __and wanted to extend our best wishes to those of you still in the colonies." _There was another giggle, then, _"It has rained nearly every day we've been here so it's been dreary and cold, but we have bundled ourselves against the elements and have persevered. We hope you are similarly warm and enjoying the holidays there. Our most joyous seasons greetings to you all and... Merry Christmas!"_ Megan chimed in on the last two words and Charlie could hear the smile in her voice.

There was a short, loud BEEP at the end of their message, then two seconds later Amita's voice was there._ "Hey, Charlie. I only have a few minutes – we're meeting the Prime Minister and his wife for dinner – but, I wanted to, no, I __**needed**__ to tell you how much I miss you and love you and I wish, so much, that we were together. I'll call you again tomorrow when we can talk. Good bye and Merry Christmas, Charlie."_

Another BEEP then Charlie heard his father speak._"Charlie. Your Uncle Joel is doing fine, but Donna and Jim are still having car problems. I called your brother but he didn't answer. I thought he would be off the plane a long time ago. I saw the news - it's a good thing Donnie made it out before the ice. At least the two of you are together. I sure wish I could be there with you boys but I'll see the both of you as soon as I can. Take it easy on that foot. Merry Christmas." _

BEEP

Don's voice, more subdued and somber than before emanated from the small speaker. _"Hey Buddy. I...uh...just got a message from Dad on my cell. Seems there's a bit of a misunderstanding. He doesn't know I couldn't make it back, does he? And I didn't know about Uncle Joel's surgery or that Dad had to stay there. He called to let me know Uncle Joel is alright, but, I...I didn't pick up – Robin and I were...well... you know..." _There was a small chuckle, then ..._ "I really like this being snowed in, bro. I'm sorry that it happened this way, though, Charlie. And I'm sorry about something else. It was Robin who realized you would be alone. I forgot Larry and Amita were gone, too. I should have thought about that. It's your first time alone, isn't it? I know it's tough, buddy, but, so are you. _

_I was thinking about the first Christmas I spent alone - my first year out of Quantico, in Detroit. Damn, it was was cold and miserable. I thought about flying home, but, you know, I was an idiot. Ended up, alone, in my shitty studio apartment with a bottle of Jack – passed out before midnight. Mom called early the next morning. She didn't say anything, I mean it had to be obvious that I had a hangover, but you know her – made me feel worse by talking as if nothing happened. She laid it on pretty thick, too. She was good at that, wasn't she?_

_Anyway, it's got to be late there, hope you're alright – don't know where you'd be this late. See you as soon as I can, Charlie, and Merry Christmas."_

BEEP

There was Christmas music playing in the background and he heard the sound of people talking and laughing. _"Hey, Charlie, it's David. I...uh...just talked to Don. Sorry that your plans didn't work out, man. No one should be alone on Christmas. _

_Between you and me, I think I've been in L.A. a little too long. I'd say it's a little cold here, but, I'd be wrong. It's damn cold here and the snow has brought the whole city to a standstill. Good thing my mom has cooked for the last two weeks. In fact, when she heard you were alone she wanted to make you something special, but she was concerned about you being Jewish and all and what you were allowed to eat during the holidays. I told her not to worry about it, soooo, I hope you like rum balls, man. She put a slew of them in a large tin, along with some cookies and fudge my sister made - kind of like your own personal holiday care package from the Bronx. Anyway, not sure when I'll see you, depends on the weather, so, be safe, and ... Merry Christmas, Charlie."_

BEEP

"_Hey, Charlie, Liz here. Sorry to hear Don and Alan couldn't make it home. I know you may not see it now, but, it's harder on the ones who can't make it home than it is on those who are at home alone. I've been both places too many times. What's Christmas, anyway? It's just a day. You can celebrate it anytime your together. Alan and Don will be back in a few days and you can celebrate then. You'll be fine, Charlie, but if you need to talk to someone, I'll be at my aunt's house in Houston. Just call my cell – anytime. Merry Christmas, Charlie."_

BEEP

For just an instant before he heard Nikki's voice there was a car horn and the noisy sound of traffic. He imagined a small house filled to overflowing with family and friends – the space crowded and stuffy – and the windows opened to the mild Los Angeles weather.

"_Hey, mathman. I know East L.A. isn't normally your go-to place for Christmas celebrating, but if you get lonely, I'm at my brother's house. Come on over. If you can make it, that's cool. If not, that's alright, too. Just take care of yourself and have a Merry Christmas, Charlie."_

BEEP

He heard chaos; people, lots of people, all laughing and talking. There were kitchen sounds – cupboard doors closing, pans clanking, micro-wave beeping, women's voices chattering. He heard the television playing a children's Christmas program and above that he heard men's voices and the distinctive sound of a pool cue hitting a pool ball – then loud yells and guffaws. Colby Granger spoke loudly into the phone. _"Hi, Charlie. Hey, I heard you're spending the holidays alone. If you're interested, man, I've got a couple of nieces I could send your way." _There were squeals and giggles and _"Uncle Colby!"_s_. _Charlie could just picture several young, blond-haired girls, dressed in their Christmas best, protesting their uncle's offer, then Colby's voice was there again._"Hey, just bear with me, dude - this is so not my idea – but, my mom and step-dad insisted."_

There was a another moment of profound confusion and several hushed instructions before Charlie heard the unmistakable sound of a guitar, then one or two throats cleared before the singing started. Charlie smiled broadly as the Granger's sang, their voices melding and harmonizing in a way that spoke of other impromptu concerts or maybe shared church choirs and Christmas caroling. They delivered a rousing performance of a light-hearted holiday song, obviously in an attempt to cheer him up.

Colby's voice, a little husky with embarrassment, came back when they were done. _"Anyway, that's it. Just wanted to say we're thinking about you. See you in a few days. Merry Christmas, Charlie."_

BEEP

There was silence – an almost reverent silence – then an unfamiliar woman's voice spoke hesitantly._"Uh, ... I hope this is Professor Charles Eppes who teaches math at CalSci in California. You don't know me, but my...our daughter, Kelly, is one of your students. We live in Ohio and we just couldn't afford to fly out there to be with her on the holidays. It's the first Christmas she hasn't been with us and it's...uh, very hard on all of us. We always open our gifts on Christmas Eve, after church service, and it was just not the same without her here with us tonight. Her father and I and her younger sisters miss her so much, but more than ever tonight. _

_I just wanted to let you know Kelly just called us and told us about your party for the students who couldn't be with their families for the holidays and how you helped the patients at the hospital, too. She was so happy – she felt so good about it, doing for others, you know, and it made us feel good, too. _

_We told our pastor at services tonight how much we missed Kelly and do you know what he said? He told us no matter how depressed or sad or lonely we get there's always someone or something that would help us recapture our joy, our peace. You did that for us tonight. You gave us our joy back. It was a true gift, Professor – the kind you give, but never know how much it means to the one you give it to, and we'll never forget it. We can only pray your holidays are as blessed as you have made ours, for it is truly in giving that we receive. Bless you, Professor Eppes, bless you and Merry Christmas."_

The answering machine beeped twice, indicating it had reached the end of the messages. The silence that followed was deafening, resonant, and Charlie could swear the voices were still reverberating though the old house.

He swiped at his eyes twice and cleared his throat, then sniffed and wiped his eyes again. Ignoring the crutch leaning against the wall, Charlie hobbled into the dining room, to the cabinet where Alan kept the special brandy. With shaky hands he poured himself a generous amount, then limped tiredly towards the fireplace. He settled himself in the large leather chair and gingerly raised his foot onto the ottoman in front of it.

If Dad and Don were here, he thought, Don would build a nice fire and the three of them would sit, quietly, enjoying the duel warmth from it and the brandy. It was too late to bother with a fire, but Charlie found the echoes of the messages he'd just heard warmed him in ways a fire never could.

Absently, he reached for the TV remote and found a music channel that played holiday music and turned the volume to a low pleasing range.

The blinking tree lights mesmerized him and he realized how tired he was. A decidedly good tired, he thought. His gaze fell to the presents already wrapped and under the tree. He smiled as he saw the long box that held the hybrid driver he had managed to win for Alan at a charity auction. It had been donated by Alan's favorite pro golfer and the bidding had been aggressive and substantial. Next to it sat the deceivingly large package he and Amita had wrapped that held an envelope with the itinerary for a trip up the coast to a five star bed and breakfast inn for Don and Robin – hidden among thousands and thousands of pieces of Styrofoam popcorn. He grinned at the box Don had added just before he had left for Maryland, the name tag reading "To Chuck"– a uniquely shaped box that gave no hint whatsoever what could be inside. It was the calculator sitting on top and intertwined with the ribbon that made him smile. He hadn't needed a calculator since – well, never.

The gifts were there, all wrapped and decorated with ribbons and bows – and calculators – all waiting to be opened and shared and enjoyed. He found himself, though, thinking of another gift – the incredible, unexpected one he had received just moments ago.

It was obvious, of course, that Don had called all the members of his team and told them his little brother was alone, but he knew in his heart, every invitation to call or join them, each attempt at cheering him up, every holiday greeting had been sincere and genuine. Dad, Amita, Larry and Megan, not knowing he was alone, had simply called to express their love and best wishes. Kelly's mom – a stranger whose life he had inadvertently touched – had touched him the most.

This gift of love and good will from his friends and family, and heartfelt blessings from a grateful mother, made him feel humbled and cherished at the same time. It was the part of Christmas his mother had liked the best; the generosity of spirit._ Christmas is not just about opening presents; it's about_ _opening your hearts to others. _It was the true magic of Christmas, she'd said, and tonight he agreed.

His thoughts stilled as the holiday music playing softly in the background crept quietly into his awareness. The popular holiday song, performed by a Grammy award winner, with a full orchestra and choir as backup, was a lively traditional Christmas song – the standard by which all holiday music was held to – and Charlie smiled through glistening eyes as he thought the Granger version, sung to him earlier over the phone, was infinitely better.

He was reminded of a quote from American writer and philosopher, Eric Hoffer, "_The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings."_

Tonight, with all the blessings he had received, Charlie wasn't sure even _he_ could count that high.

He did know one thing, Liz was right. It's generally accepted in the scientific community that Dec 25th was not the actual birthday of Jesus, but a date chosen by scholars and leaders to correspond with pagan winter festivals. Sir Isaac Newton, himself, argued that the date was selected because of it's proximity to the winter solstice.

Whether it was an actual commemoration of a holy event or a conveniently chosen day on an ancient calender, the Eppes household – neither Christian nor Jewish – had simply celebrated all the things that are good about the Christmas season; the good will, the joy of seeing long absent friends and family, the colorful and treasured decorations, the cheer and merriment during a holiday meal, the pleasure of giving special gifts to those most special to you.

Christmas is not just a date. It's a state of mind.

They could exchange gifts anytime. They could spend a great evening with each other anytime. They could _do_ Christmas anytime. In fact, this worked out even better because now, when they celebrate, they can have everyone over and share it with all those they love. It's the warmth and love of family and friends, Charlie knew, that make the holidays so memorable. It's true, special places and people might help the mood, but you don't have to actually be there or be with them – the celebration and love comes from within.

He moved the glass in his hand, swirling the brandy around and enjoying the reflection of the blinking tree lights in the glass. Tipping his head back slightly to take a sip, his eyes caught the portrait above the fireplace again. His father's kind eyes and Don's contagious grin filled him with a feeling of comfort – a well-being that started in his stomach and radiated throughout his entire body.

He raised his glass towards the portrait. "Merry Christmas, Dad, Don." he toasted. He tipped the glass up and emptied it, the burn mingling with the feeling of peace and contentment that had wrapped it's way around his heart.

Relaxed and content, he drifted off to sleep, only to wake with a start when he felt the glass slipping from his fingers.

"I should go to bed." he mumbled, reluctantly dragging himself from the comfort of the leather chair.

He limped through the house checking the locks and turning the lights out, and he thought about the preparations and cleaning he would have to do before Alan and Don returned. Their celebration might be late, but it would no doubt be filled with laughter and love and tradition – and it would most certainly be memorable.

**The end**

**Best wishes to all of you, whatever your religious beliefs are this time of year, and have a joyous, safe and healthy 2011!**


End file.
